


shell

by suludemora



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suludemora/pseuds/suludemora
Summary: She was a citizen of Rigel, no matter how ill-suited she was to the cold, power-driven empire.





	shell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isa1187](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isa1187/gifts).



The gods had the big picture in mind when they divided Valentia, and Rinea held no real anger toward them. Their decision to separate Rigel and Zofia kept peace between the two nations for centuries, probably saving countless lives. Still, there were those like her, born to one country and bound to remain there for the rest of her life, whether she wanted to or not. She was a citizen of Rigel, no matter how ill-suited she was to the cold, power-driven empire.  


The one saving grace for most of her life was her status. Even as a minor noble, she was afforded warm dresses, soft shawls, and, perhaps most important of all, a position of power. It wasn’t much, but every scrap was valuable, and Rinea knew she wouldn’t have been able to gain any herself if she hadn’t been born with it. Truthfully, the power didn’t matter to her, but if made surviving in Rigel any easier, she wouldn’t part with it.  


Survival. That was all it was. Few people lived in Rigel, they simply survived. They had an army hundreds of thousands strong, not a single war fought in decades, and acres of barren farmlands. Meanwhile, Zofia had food to feed all of Valentia three times over, yet were too spoiled and weak to defy an agreement created by two dragons so old they have crumbling statues in their likenesses scattered in forgotten places throughout the continent.  


Maybe Rinea didn’t belong to Zofia either. She couldn’t live in such excess after witnessing firsthand the scarcity plaguing the northern nation. Power was the only thing Rigellians had in excess; after all, it required no soil, water, or sun. Rinea held no love for the little power she possessed, but she was grateful for it. Without it, she would never have been invited to any of the balls held by Rigellian nobility. And if she had never been able to attend the balls, then she would have never met Berkut.  


Prince Berkut, nephew to Emperor Rudolf himself. A formidable warrior and strategist, the perfect picture of everything a Rigellian citizen should strive to be. Despite this, Rinea felt drawn to him. _This man does not belong to Rigel either_.  
She never said it out loud, of course. Berkut’s pride would not take it the way she intended, and that wasn’t an ordeal she planned on going through. Maybe one day, when neither of them felt like they had anything to prove. 

Or so she thought, before the Rigellian army crossed the southern border into Zofia. She didn’t lose hope, however. Berkut had been pulled and pushed by people more powerful and traditions far older than him for all his life. They could hold out through one war. One war, and then Berkut would ascend the throne, and the two of them would no longer have anyone above them giving commands that went against their very cores as people.  


Of course, Berkut had always been better at setting himself aside to carry out the will of the empire. There was probably a part of him that enjoyed combat. Rinea was no fool, it was a necessary part of leading a nation in this age. Even the Zofians had an army defending their castle, though Rigel made quick work of them initially. Berkut would return from his duties leading the soldiers of Rigel, and Rinea would listen to him recount the events of the day. As time passed, and Rigel lost more and more footing to the Deliverance, he grew steadily more desperate to prove himself to—to what? His uncle? His people? Lord Duma? Himself? But that wasn’t right, because…  
“My lord Berkut, you don’t really want power, not in the way that Rigel has told you that you do.” No, he wouldn’t take that well.  
“My lord Berkut, you don’t have to prove yourself to the emperor or to Jedah. You know your own capabilities.” But that wasn’t the issue, was it?  
“My lord Berkut, your people will still follow you, even if you lose a few battles here and there.” And that was it, wasn’t it? Would Rigel still take orders from a man who was defeated by a common Zofian boy? Rinea wanted to believe they would, but the influence of the Duma faithful was strong, and they would doubtlessly use every loss to discredit Berkut in the eyes of his people to take control of Rigel.  


She wanted to scream. There were so many things in the way, too many years of poor harvests and resentment and witches and waste and near-invasions and real invasions and dragons, those gods and their cursed Divine Accord—three thousand years of built up tension between the followers of Mila and Duma. It made her wonder if the dragons truly had the far future in mind, or if it was just the quickest and most convenient way to end their ancient conflict.  


Maybe the gods were the shortsighted ones. Maybe it was up to the people to fix their mistakes. Maybe a divided continent wasn’t the answer, and maybe she and Berkut and everyone else in Rigel and Zofia that felt that maybe everything that’s been fed to them their whole lives is wrong have the means to—to what? Unite Valentia? Overthrow her two nations and start anew? Was that too ambitious? She was Rigellian, after all.  


It was a wonderful fantasy. Still, she was not with Berkut for his power or connections. With Berkut, Rinea was able to forget Rigel, strange as it was. Especially in the days before Desaix’s coup, touring the halls of the castle and exploring the surrounding woods, Rinea could almost imagine that they were citizens of an impossible kingdom. She didn’t exactly fancy herself a perfect queen, but for the sake of the fantasy, she supposed she would be. It was difficult to image any incarnation of Berkut where he wasn’t a king or an emperor or a high-ranking lord. And, free from the rules and expectations of Rigellian society, he would rule firmly but kindly, true to the gentle self he revealed to her, and only to her, months into their courtship.  


That gentle self was still there. It was encased in tough armor and harsh commands, like the spiny shells of those strange sea creatures on the coasts, but it was there, and Rinea believed in him. He had faced setbacks before, and though none of them were so great as discovering that he was no longer the next in line for the throne, and that all he had hoped to achieve was dangled before him only to be cruelly snatched away… He would get through this. They would get through this. Duma be damned, power wasn’t everything in this world. _Rigel_ meant nothing to her. Berkut meant the world to her, and she wasn’t about to let the empire and that dragon and Jedah and the witch warp his very core.  


She stumbled through dimly lit passages, hoping (but not praying) to find her fiancé quickly and lead him back to the castle, where they would find calm and peace and maybe, together with Alm, come to a real arrangement between Rigel and Zofia. Maybe her dream wouldn’t be easy to achieve, but there could be hope, if she could only convince Berkut of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen i’ve got a lot of feelings about “this just wasn’t your empire” and also berkut being a shy little kid?? Sucks what ended up happening at the end ha ha h a
> 
> I don't get a lot of practice writing but I hope this was acceptable! ^-^


End file.
